Betrayal
by Angelique Daemon
Summary: Standing in front of the burning Chantry, Hawke can't help but question her actions, and whether or not the person she thought loved her ever even cared at all. Rated T for language


**Author's Note: **I extremely dislike what they did to Anders in DA2, and both the scene where you decide what to do with him after the Chantry, and the ending romance scene are just REALLY dissatisfying to me. So in response, I wrote pretty much my own feelings on the matter, since the entire romance with Anders just seemed like he was using the hell out of Hawke.

* * *

Hawke stared down at Anders, a powder keg of emotions inside her. He could not even _look_ at her! He sat on the bench, hunched over and wringing his hands, staring off at nothing. This... _this_ was the man she loved? _This _was the man that swore to her that he loved her more than anything in the world?

She looked back over her shoulder at the remains of the Chantry. _Almost_ anything, apparently.

The redhead rogue was no sweet innocent. She had killed, and killed, and killed until the scent never fully came out of her armor, until her blades had been dyed red, and rust had pitted them. Hell, she had worked for _smugglers_ when she first came to Kirkwall, but this... Of course, there were some mothers in the Chantry who had likely been in on any number of schemes. She was willing to bet Patrice had had a slew of conspirators they had never found, and she was sure that there had been a number of Mothers and Sisters who heartily backed Ser Alrik's Tranquil Solution... But there had been just as many who wanted nothing more than peace. So many whose only crime had been to be part of a collection of people, some of whom had gone bad. The hypocrisy alone made her stomach churn.

And the Grand Cleric? That tired, but kind, grandmotherly woman? What was _her_ crime? Not believing that Meredith was mad? Thinking that Orisino and Meredith could work out their differences? Believing that mages and templars could work together to make a better Circle?

Hawke had never wanted to _stab_ Anders as much as she did at that moment. She did not want to _kill_ him, just _hurt_ him, and make him feel just a tiny _shadow_ of the pain ripping through her heart at that moment. She knew what the others wanted her to do, and she made her decision. She opened her mouth to tell him that she, _personally_, would make it her life's work to see that he lived through this entire, sordid affair, that she would _not_ let him run away... again... and that he would spend every moment of his remaining life fighting for his cause, rather than making a grand gesture and taking the coward's way out.

That was what she _meant_ to say... but what came out was, "Did you ever really love me? Even just a little?" At least it came out sounding angry, she took solace in that.

Anders _finally_ looked up at her, his honeyed eyes wide with surprise, hurt written across his haggard features. Good! She _wanted_ to hurt him! "How can you even _ask_ that?"

She cut him off, not giving him a chance to pick up ranting steam, "Oh, I don't know," she said, her voice bitingly sarcastic, "Could it be the fact that I spent three years loving you, and sheltering you from the templars, and supporting you and your cause, while you steadily drew further and further away from me?" She was airing dirty laundry, but frankly she did not even care at this point, "Or the fact that you've been playing on my desire to help you in order to get me to do your dirty work?" she jabbed a finger towards the smoldering ruins of the Chantry, "_That's_ on _my_ hands too, Anders! Because you told me that we were finding ingredients to separate you from Justice, _not_ to commit _mass murder_!" She could see he was about to protest, and quickly leaned down, putting her face so close to his that their noses nearly touched, and he would have no choice but to look her in the eyes, "Was I ever anything more than a means to an end to you?" she hissed.

"Hawke, I don't think this is the time..."

"Shut up, Aveline," the rogue snapped, unwilling to put this aside, as she had done with _so_ many things in her life. She had _bled_ for this city for _six years_, it could give her ten fucking minutes. She watched Anders try to avoid her gaze, but when he tried to pull back, she reached out and grabbed the front of his coat, and shook him, "ANSWER ME, YOU COWARD!" she bellowed in his face, using a voice that would have made Fenris proud... had he been there. Another thing she had lost, it seemed.

Anders' skin split, the blue glow of the Fade shining though the cracks. Before Justice had the time to do anything, Hawke pulled back her fist, and hit the spirit just as damn well hard as she could, taking a certain amount of grim pleasure in knocking him ass over tea kettle. She rubbed her throbbing hand, feeling more satisfied than she ever had in her life. "Go fuck yourself, demon," she said recklessly, "This isn't about you, and this act had nothing to do with justice. Go back the hell where you belong," she sneered, "The grown-ups are talking."

"**I'll not be ordered around by the likes of **_**you**_**, thief!**"the spirit replied, getting quickly to his feet. He released a pulse of energy from the Fade that knocked the entire group flat, "**You've distracted him enough, and now that he's finally back on track, I won't let you sway him again!**"

"Sway him?" Hawke asked, scrambling to her feet, "I asked him a _question_ about the _past_, and _you_ act like I'm trying to force him to work for the bloody templars! I already said I'll help the mages, so go fuck yourself!" She _would_ have said more, but she was hefted off her feet by Justice's sudden grip on her throat. _'You know, Mother always told me my fool mouth would get me killed. I wonder if she'll say she told me so when I see her again...'_ She heard her companions getting to their feet, along with the unmistakeable sounds of weapons being drawn, and waved a hand, calling them off. This was her fight, after all, and she was not about to get _them_ killed because _she _poked the bear.

**"We'll be rid of you, one way or another, woman,"** the spirit growled, **"and then concern for you will stay his hand no longer!**"

The rogue wished she could laugh in his face at the idea that _she_ had stopped Anders from doing _anything_... but as it was she was having the life choked out of her, and she could not draw the breath to laugh. Instead she swung a foot up and kicked him square in the tenders. It was almost as good.

Justice roared, and slammed her into the ground, making stars explode in front of her eyes. He maintained his grip on her throat as he knelt over her, and she felt a distant satisfaction at the pained expression on his face. Well, good. Survival instinct had her writhing on the ground and clawing at his hand, even though her mind was steadily floating away, blackness eating away at the edges of her vision. That was fine... maybe Anders would finally learn something... in the split second before her friends cut him down, that was.

The pressure on her throat suddenly vanished, just as she was about to pass out. She drew a ragged breath, and then began to cough. Multiple hands helped her into a sitting position, and then held her upright as the horrible hacking wracked her frame. When she could finally breathe, she opened her streaming eyes to see Aveline holding Anders back at sword point. The mage, himself once more, looked suspiciously like he wanted to simply throw himself on guard captain's blade. He looked more damn upset and repentant than he had when he blew up the damn Chantry. Well it was nice to know that hurting her was more upsetting than killing a slew of defenseless women.

She patted Merrill's hand to tell her to let go, since the elf was the only one still holding onto her. She could feel the blood mage's fear for her in her trembling grip, so she did her best to tell her it was alright... the assurance came out as a croak, but on the second try her, "I'm fine," was actually intelligible. Once she was released she got to her feet, and walked over to Aveline, putting a hand on her sword arm and gently pushing it down, shaking her head.

The taller redhead scowled, but lowered her sword, glaring at Anders the whole time, "Hawke?" she asked without looking away from the healer.

"I'm fine," the rogue assured her friend, her voice still rough, "I promise not to be so stupid again." The captain nodded and sheathed her sword before walking back to the others. Hawke observed the mage, noting that he looked like he was about to cry.

He reached out towards her, like he would have to brush hair back from her face, or to cup her cheek, but he stopped himself and dropped his hand. He looked down, "I love you Hawke," he muttered, "More than anything... but some things are more important than us."

Rage lit inside her again, and the redhead found it hard not to do something that would call out Justice again. Instead she bit back all her immediate response, and nodded curtly. She was not the only one that put things aside for this city. "Very well," she said, not believing him about loving her at all, "You're coming with us," startled golden eyes flew up to search her narrowed green ones, "I will see to it that you live to fight for this cause, Anders," she growled, "since it's so bloody important." With that, she turned on her heel and marched from the square, expecting the others to fall in behind her like they always did.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Hawke looked over her 'troops', and smiled slightly at the sight of Fenris standing among them. She could not even begin to express her joy at having the warrior back at her side. She would admit, to herself, that of all the group she liked him best. It was not that she liked the others any less, it was just that she loved startling a laugh from the dour elf, and even more loved the surprised, almost frightened look on his face when she did so, followed by the cat-like attempt to pretend that loss of dignity never happened.

Her gaze drifted to Bethany, and she sighed inwardly in relief. It was good to know that if they died here, at least her sister had forgiven her. The last time they had seen each other it had been... unpleasant. She had been without any family for a long time now, and while she had tried to cling to Anders for comfort, he had pulled away to become more fertive and agitated. It was good to know that someone still loved her.

Her eyes fell on the blonde mage... and her feet carried her over to him. The look he gave her was... pathetic. She felt the urge to hit him, but she held back. "I should have trusted you," he said, giving her an even more pathetic look, "even with all we shared, I never thought you'd spare my life."

Hawke bit her tongue to keep from saying something she might regret.

"If we live through this, you know I'll be hunted," he went on, oblivious to the rage he was feeding inside her, "no one in Kirkwall will offer me mercy," his expression turned hopeful, "But... if you would join me, I'd rather be on the run with you, than safe with anyone else."

"Then we will be fugitives together," the rogue replied, having no intention of letting the mage run off alone. _Someone_ was going to need to keep an eye on him, after all, and it was her lack of vigilance that had cost so many their lives. She needed to atone too, after all.

Anders brightened immediately, obviously entirely ignorant of her true feelings on the matter, and seeing only what he wished. She wondered how she had missed this glaring character flaw. Or _had _she missed it? Maybe she had willingly overlooked it, doinfg the exact same thing he did, because she just wanted _someone_ around that loved her.

"We will fight for a world where our children can be born mages, _and _free!" he declared, "Ten years, a hundred years from now, someone like me will love someone like you, and there will be no templars to tear them apart!" he nodded, "May the Maker bring us victory! Or everything else is meaningless."

Hawke stared at him agog. Even now... _even now_, when they were about to take one _an army of templars_ and might _die_, all he could do was preach his fanaticism? He could not even tell her that he loved her? He could not even give her a _kiss_, even if it was only on the _cheek_? She took a step back, and then another, and then another. She turned and practically ran to the other side of the room.

Once there was enough distance between them that she could breathe through the heartache, she clutched at her chest. She had done so many, many stupid things in her life... but Anders... Anders above all others was proof that she made poor damn choices. She looked over her shoulder, her gaze falling on Fenris. Another pain contracted her heart, and not for the first time, she wished that the warrior had been as interested in her as she had been in him. Maybe then this would have never happened...


End file.
